Stuck With Francis

- 8 -

The week was going by with no issues and, luckily, no interactions with the Zambrotta's. My father's whole demeanor has been brightened, which makes me thankful in a way for Kenny's strange family. He let me go out with my friends on a school night, started driving me to school, and even gave me a "weekly allowance" which I doubt will continue for long, but I'm grateful nonetheless. 

Classes didn't drag on and soccer practice was fun instead of draining. Everything was going swimmingly. A little too swimmingly...

On Wednesday Andrew and I were doing our stretches at soccer practice, and we realized that we forgot about our little plan to get revenge on Francis. 

Andrew, in a straddle, brought up the topic again. 

"So no new info about the F-word, huh?"

"No actually. I haven't seen or heard of him this week." I responded, also in a straddle. 

"Hmm. Maybe we oughta bring in reinforcements. You know, for Operation Francis."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, since you're not getting any opportunities to gather information about him, we need to find it out from someone else."

We switched over to doing arm circles as I pondered his sentence. 

"You're right. You know who would be perfect? Michael. He goes to Francis's school, and is involved in all the stupid Ridgemont drama."

"Let's give him a call after school and indoctrinate him into our plan. This is good."

The coach blew his whistle and shouted at us to start practice. 

"Alright team! Season is starting in a month and you're all out of shape and miserable. I need some more energy from all of you! Five laps, go!"

____________________________________

Andrew and I sat in his car, sweating and sore after practice, dialing Michael's number. 

"Hey Andrew, what's up?"

"Michael, hey, I'm with Lio right now, and we wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot me!"

Andrew passed the phone over to me.

"Hey Michael, I know you don't like to be on anyone's bad side or anything, and that's not what we're asking from you. We just need some dirt on a certain someone at your school."

"Let me guess. Francis?"

"Precisely. He's been going to school for like a week now, right? Is there anything we wouldn't know about, like if he's sleeping with a teacher or something?"

"What are you guys trying to do exactly?"

"It's not important, don't worry."

"If you guys are trying to get revenge on him, I would be careful. No one messes with him, even the testosterone-filled assholes at my school that fight at any chance they get."

I believed him, Francis carries a very ominous presence wherever he goes. 

"Well, Michael I have some advantages over him, too. We just need some starting point, anything."

"Okay...ummm...I sit by him in Calculus and I'm pretty sure he's struggling. The teacher's always having him stay after class."

Andrew put his hand on his chin. "We could do something with that.."

"I don't think so. Who does he hang out with?"

"I've seen him with different groups, but most often he's been hanging out with Rod's group. Not as popular as the football guys, but they get along with everyone."

"Are you close with this Rod guy?"

"Not close, but we're friends. Oh! I did hang with them at lunch yesterday because Stephan wasn't there. Francis didn't talk much, or I just wasn't paying attention to him." He hummed to himself in thought. "Wait, yeah! They started talking about girls and soon everyone was asking Francis what his type was. At first he said he didn't have a type, as long as she's got a nice bum."

"Asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, I can't blame him. But then he said some other things because they started drilling him. He said, like, girls that play hard to get, short skirts, and not clingy. Also he said sass turns him on. Nothing really about appearance."

"He'd probably bang any woman that came up to him."

"Let's be civil, Lio. Anyways, that's all. If I learn anything else, I'll let you guys know."

Michael hung up and Andrew and I sat defeated. This would be a harder mission than we thought. Francis definitely did not give a shit about his reputation. But, he still needed a clean palate for his parents so that he can keep mooching off of them. If I could get someone to work him up enough for him to throw the first punch, maybe that would be the answer. Plus, I wouldn't be involved, technically. But when am I going to see him again?

____________________________________

Unfortunately I spoke too soon--turns out I'm going to the Zambrotta residence tonight. 

"Take a shower, boy. You look homeless", my father told me.

"Coach worked us hard today. So is this another party? Or just a casual dinner?"

"Just a dinner. Kenny and I are discussing a potential business trip."

My ears perked up. 

"Really? Like a vacation? Where are we going, can it be somewhere tropical?"

He laughed at me mockingly. 

"Unfortunately it wouldn't be a vacation and you wouldn't be a part of it. We might be going to up to the Boston harbor to meet with his executives. Nothing you'd be interested in."

"But I've never been to Boston, or anywhere except for Nantucket. I can make myself busy, find something to do, roam the city-"

"We'll see. Now be ready in half an hour."

____________________________________